


It`s just a habit, okay?

by cloudygrey2001



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ADHD, AU, Angst, Anxious Stiles, BTW Derek is a high school student, Bisexual Stiles, Eating Disorders, F/M, Fluff, Going for accuracy here guys, I know right, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Hale Fire, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Bromance, Scott is a Good Friend, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sheriff stilinski is an arsehole, Stiles and Scott are super fucking cute, What if?, but hes trying okay? well maybe not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-01-04 03:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudygrey2001/pseuds/cloudygrey2001
Summary: The words replayed itself.It was your fault. It was your fault. It was your fault.You just had to fuck up everything didn’t you, Stiles?.....Everything was getting worse, he found himself with his fingers down his throat once more.but that's okay because its just a habit. It`s a coping mechanism and nothing is wrong. It's routine.And well I deserve it, okay?Who cares if I waste away? And who cares if I want to be weightless.Or the story about Stiles having an eating disorder and Scott supporting him, with blankets and hugs and love (its cute, read). And sometimes friendship can make things a little bit better.





	1. Derek Hale is Gay

**Author's Note:**

> I have never posted on this site before, so obviously I'm nervous. Some trigger warnings firstly, anorexia being the biggest all the way through and its graphic, also slight verbal abuse, graphic vomiting (yep sorry bout that) and mental health issues. If any of this triggers you please don`t read, I do not want to trigger anyone.  
> Warnings for cuteness. FLUFF.  
> Also I'm not from America, actually from England. So if anything is too damn English or there's any mistakes tell me, please? Message me if you have any questions, or if it isn't accurate enough.  
> Also I should get it out there that I swear way too often, so if you have innocent ears then cover them bitch.  
> I hope you like this and if you dooo leave a comment, bookmark or kudos.  
> Disclaimer- do I look like I own this tv show, nopeeeee. (I don't own anything, jeez that's sad)  
> I hope you all like it, have a glorious day people of the world.

I was an anxious kid. 

Correction I still am an anxious kid. 

And that anxiety, well that was ADHD. Looking back on it now, it was almost obvious. I was the annoying kid that never shut up, or stopped twitching my leg and I could never concentrate even if I wasn’t fidgeting. Hell, even if I was fidgeting, I still didn’t concentrate. You can probably imagine how much my school teachers liked me.

I didn’t have many friends. Something I don’t think my dad was too happy about but then I met Scott. Who didn’t care that I was too hyperactive or annoying, he just looked at me with his puppy dog face and smiled. 

Things they were okay for a while. Until my parents decided to get me tested because my behaviour was getting out of control, their words not mine. Turns out I had ADHD. Which wasn’t anything surprising, I always knew that the average kid, well- that wasn't me. 

Then things went downhill, I didn’t see it coming. Mom starting forgetting things, they were mundane things, like where were her keys, or she forgot a recipe and added the wrong ingredient.  And then it got worse, suddenly it was forgetting to pick me up at school. Suddenly it was anger and apathy and never eating enough.  she stopped caring about everything, me included. And of course, dad was living in bittersweet ignorance, when isn`t he. 

Then everything blew up. 

She forgot who I was... 

And this time Dad he couldn't ignore that. Then we got the diagnosis for frontotemporal dementia, she well- she didn’t have long left. I`m not going to go into detail about those months.  

I was there when she died. Dad he was on duty and I didn’t know what was happening. I was just a stupid kid. I thought she was going to sleep, I guess I didn’t know that she would never open her eyes again. 

I was angry at the time. Because dad wasn’t there, because I had to watch my mom die and she had no idea who I was, not a fucking clue. And dad he just took on some extra shifts and drank some liquor like everything was okay. 

But everything was so far from okay. And the world was ripped apart, I saw how ugly, how fucked up everything was because my mom was beautiful. So why did she die? And if my dad cared about her why wasn’t he there? Why was I alone? 

And the last question, why did I feel like it was my fault? That I could have prevented it. I felt that if I was a better-behaved kid, if I didn’t have ADHD that maybe things wouldn't have turned out that way. And I know, okay believe me I know that intellectually it didn’t make sense. But neither did my mom's illness. 

That was the start of something toxic. 

Destructive. 

After her death, things were as you would expect. And then well it wasn’t because dad he started drinking and when he's drunk, he's angry. 

And he screams things like 

`it was you, you killed her, you know that? ` 

I do know that dad, I do. 

He took on more shifts, my ADHD got worse, so I was put on Adderall. Which is an amphetamine to treat attention deficit hyperactive disorder, but that’s the long non-abbreviated way. Anyway, one of the side effects of the medication was weight loss. 

And as a kid, I liked my food. I loved curly fries and mountain dew and don’t even get me started on pizza. But the weight loss, it was nice... And I know it doesn’t make sense because who likes  side effects. Yet losing weight, was thrilling, it was a sense of pride. 

I felt better. 

Better than I felt in a long time. 

I was thirteen, when that happened. 

But side effects disappear and with a new dosage, the side effects stopped.  Suddenly I wasn’t losing weight anymore and I know, okay, I know I should be happy but I wasn’t. It was just another bullet point on the things that weren't okay. And that list was getting longer. 

When I was fourteen I made myself throw up for the first time. The day went like every day does in middle school, me and Scott were losers, I tried to get Lydia`s attention. That didn’t happen, but something was different about that day. It was Mother's Day. 

And everyone was talking about how great their moms are, not were. I only had the memories of handing my mum the shitty card I made her two years ago, when things got bad. 

I wish I appreciated her more. And dad well you could tell he was affected, he worked a late shift. 

It was too much. I didn’t know what to do, so I did what made me happy once, losing weight. I didn’t know much about it, still don’t but the idea of food sitting in my stomach was disgusting. I was revolted. 

The words replayed itself. 

It was your fault. It was your fault. It was your fault. 

 _Y_ _ou just had to fuck everything up didn’t_ _you, Stiles?_  

Fuck it, I thought. 

So, I shoved two fingers down my throat and tried to bring the contents of my stomach up. It didn’t work, so I used three. And fuck was it painful. The vomit filled the toilet and fast and so I was left hugging the toilet, stomach acid dripping down my fingers. And with the feeling of disgust that I did that, came the feeling of relief, pure relief. I deserved everything I got and well I definitely deserved that. 

I made myself promise to never do it again. 

That was the first of many promises I broke. 

That was also the start of me on my knees, throwing up every _damn_ piece of food. 

 

* * *

 

"Stiles, are you going to eat that?" Scott asks. 

I blink twice, staring upwards meeting his brown eyes as I shake my head. No, I'm not going to eat that. 

Not today, I'm trying to lose weight. Not gain weight. 

His hand swipes the barely touched sandwich. 

"So, did you know that Allison-" 

I`m going to spare you on the Scott never stops talking about Allison show because he honestly doesn’t. It's actually kind of adorable but he tends to get a little lost in her. At least having relationship with her is more realistic than me going out with Lydia. 

Look at me, then look at Lydia. 

Not going to happen. 

Definitely not. Like she's not going to go out with the dorky loser who can`t keep food down and who's dad thinks he killed his mum. 

Wow, that just got fucking real. Anyway, back to ignorance. Lydia was honestly my only hope of being straight. Okay I know that sounds weird, but when I was little I was always a little more enamoured with boys than girls. Then I met Lydia, realised that girls are equally beautiful and boom, bisexuality here I fucking come. 

Not that I`m in a relationship, or fucking. 

Still a puny virgin. Not that anyone would want to have sex with my body, that much is obvious. You`ve probably got the opinion that I see myself as fat. Well I don’t.  I`m aware I`m lanky, but I could be skinnier. And I know it's bad to feel pride over being skinny but fuck it I can`t help it. 

It's only a habit, okay? 

It's not like I throw every day. 

"Stiles" 

Its only really when I have a bad day and I guess I've just been having a lot of bad days recently. 

"Stiles, are you there?" Scott asks with a click of his hand. 

I can't believe I did that again.  I need to get out of my head.

"Did you take your Adderall today?" He asks his voice more serious ,as he carries on stuffing the sandwich down his throat. 

"Think so Scotty" I reply trying to think back on this morning. 

He passes over a bottle of mountain dew, which he has in his bag for some reason. 

It's actually kind of sweet that he knows that. If you don’t have the condition (ADHD) you would probably think giving someone who has it, a caffeine filled drink is stupid idea. Who wants a kid with ADHD more hyperactive than normal, not my dad for sure. Though that’s not the point. Anyway, turns out caffeine filled drinks actually calm us down. 

There`s also the fact that energy drinks have a fuck lot of calories in but I'm trying to think of the positives not the negatives here. 

"Thanks buddy" I answer back taking a large swig of the drink, feeling my brain instantly calm. 

"No problem" he calls back, his eyes attached to his so called future wife Allison, if you haven't guessed it already. 

The funny thing is I think Allison has a crush on him. 

But I think if theoretically if they were together it would be too much PDA and I do not want to see that of Scott. Nope, no way. Like we`ve seen each other naked and no not in the way you're thinking, you pervert. In the accidental or the five-year-old confident kind of way, where you pee on sandcastles together. Weird kids already mentioned that. 

Anyway, my point was, it would be cute. 

"So, have you heard?" Scott butts into my thoughts. 

"Probably not" I reply curiously, I can't help it I'm the sheriff's son. Is it my fault that I like a mystery, it runs in the family. Although I don’t think I`d become a sheriff because I`ve seen what it did to my dad and I don’t want that to happen to me. 

"Derek Hale is gay" he answers with a shocked voice. 

What? I mean really? 

"You mean the grumpiest, most masculine guy to ever exist is gay, if anything by the personality I thought he was asexual. There's only so many times you can deny every single hot person" I ramble on my hands tapping the table in a random pattern. 

"You`re a dick Stiles" Scott replies his face filled with amusement. 

"Thanks Scott ,you always know how to brighten my day" I reply back sardonically.  

"So, if you`re bisexual and Derek is gay, then maybe-" 

I interrupt him because bitch I know where this is going. 

"No. You aren`t doing this. No match making service, Scott just carry on making goo goo eyes at Allison. My love life is non-existent and that’s how it's going to stay unless Lydia breaks up with Jackson. I mean come on, the goofy,annoying ,weird looking kid going out with the hot popular kid. Don`t be stupid Scotty" I scratch my hand hearing his loud too melodramatic sigh. 

"But, there could be chemistry! And you aren`t weird looking, when will you learn that?" He argues back, his eyes filled with an odd determination, as he mumbles the last bit, more to himself than me.

I didn’t know Scott was so invested in match making, I should get him off tumblr. 

"Nope. End of" I answer my voice turning monotonous. 

"You should ask her out" I advise, looking back at Scott. 

"Who?" He asks, stupidly if you`re asking me. I mean how slow can you be?  he isn't exactly crushing on anybody else.

"Allison, you like her, she likes you. Boom relationship and then you can stop living your dreams through mine" I explain whilst playing with the bright green cap. 

"You think she likes me?" He asks, his voice taking a more of a shyer note.  

"Definitely, she stares at you too much for it to be platonic" 

He blushes. Yes, Scott actually blushes, that’s fricking adorable. 

The bell then rings, breaking up the cuteness of Scott`s crush. 

Its only then I realise I have fucking Mr Harris. 

Great. 

You can imagine how my days going to go.

....

The day finally ends and let me tell you, Mr Harris still a dick. Although that's not going to exactly change.

 I unlock my jeep and slide in, as I pray to a god that definitely doesn't exist that it will start up. The ignition begins and the engine starts and all I can say is thank fuck for that, wait no I was supposed to be thanking god.

You`re probably wondering why I don't get rid of the jeep, if half of the time it doesn't work. I don't get rid of it because its my mom`s car. and this is one of the only things I have of her. Her jeep, that she used drive around everywhere.

So I`m attached to my car and not for the typical male things like I don't call it a `hot ride` or my `baby` because that shit is weird, okay? Although I should probably get my jeep checked out. it doesn't run as well as it used too.

I park the car and pull the keys out, as I wrestle my bag out of the back. I look up and notice how Dad`s car isn't parked outside and its then I know he's not coming home tonight.Then again, he always takes night shifts around this time of year, winter that is and that probably has to do with mom`s anniversary. And it's not as simple as get over it she's gone, okay? 

She`s my Mom and its only been five years, she's irreplaceable. And I'm terrified because I've already forgotten what her voice sounds like and there aren't any pictures of her around the house, they`re only left out, when Dad drinks. 

I don’t want to forget her, I can't forget her.  

Its only then I realise the mountain dew. Wow that sounds fucked up how do I get from my mom's death to a soda. Oh hello, again ADHD. I swallow some Adderall down dry because I'm so hard-core, joking by the way. I drank water with it, I don’t get the whole let's just swallow it dry, no that’s wrong. 

Anyway, mountain dew contains at least 170 calories. And I can't afford that, okay I can't afford that and then there's that bit of sandwich from this morning or that piece of toast, I had to have this morning because dad was watching and he can't get suspicious. He`s got enough on his plate, without watching out for his freaky unstable son. 

Not that there's anything wrong with me. After all its just a habit. And because it's just a habit, I walk into the bathroom, locking the door because I mean you never know and sheriff`s son obviously. And I can't have anyone know and why the fuck hasn’t my Adderall kicked in. 

I breathe out and count to ten because right now isn't the time to have a panic attack, although I haven't had one for a while. I sit on the floor and pull the toilet seat up. 

I stick two fingers down my throat, not using the toothbrush this time. And its sudden like always the vomit quickly filling the toilet even if it is mostly stomach acid.  

Shakily I flush the toilet, my head still resting on the seat because I'm so fucking tired. I'm always tired and cold, don’t forget cold. But that's because its winter. Although I'm sure it wasn’t this cold, last year and especially in November as well. Finally, I stand up from the toilet and decide instead for some terrible reason, to look at myself in the mirror. And in a narcissistic way, although you can probably guess I'm not vain, I mean what's there to see. 

My eyes meet my reflection and it isn't pretty. 

Red rimmed eyes stare back at me, with large black circles under. My hair is sticking up every way, maybe I should buzz cut it again. Then again, maybe not. 

The only thing that hasn’t changed is my stomach, it still pokes out, just a little and that’s not okay. Why isn't this working? I then grab my toothbrush, squirting some toothpaste onto the brush because my mouth still has that bitter taste. After brushing my teeth, I stand on the scales, removing my heavy clothes because otherwise it makes you heavier and I want, no I need accuracy. 

**118 pounds.**

So, I've lost a pound. That’s not fair, all that and for one fucking pound. I take it back God doesn’t exist. Otherwise you'd think I'd be skinny, then again he probably has more important things to do than granting my wishes, he isn't the genie from Aladdin, which was the best Disney film by the way, fight me.

Actually, if you want to know where I stand on religion, I'm an atheist. But not like an atheist who goes around testing people's faith because that’s just mean. And I may be a sarcastic loser but I'm not a complete and utter arse. 

I step of the scale and turn on the shower because I always feel disgusting after I make myself puke. And I mean more disgusting than usual, obviously. I step in the shower and the heat relaxing my cold body instantly. That’s the problem with showers, once you`re in their its near impossible to get out. 

That sounds like a metaphor for my mind. I reach for the shampoo, chuckling slightly when I see it`s strawberry. Since when did my dad start buying strawberry shampoo, although it does smell nice so I can't disagree with that. 

I smear it over my hair, cringing slightly when I realise that some of it has fallen out into my hand. It's not a large clump but still. It's probably just stress, that’s what happens when you`re stressed right?  

I stay in the shower for about forty minutes. I know that’s a long time, to spend in the shower but it's cold outside. So _fricking_ cold. I reach for the towel, as I attempt to towel dry my hair. And then with the towel secured around my hideous waist. I walk back to my room, swinging the still creaking door open I then reach for some warm gym pants and a hoodie. 

Oh, and some socks. Hey it's not my fault I have cold feet. After getting dressed as fast as I can. I turn my computer on and make a cup of black coffee I mean even though I've brushed my teeth the taste still clings to my mouth.  And the coffee should cancel it out, plus it's got hardly any calories in. 

I ignore the way, my hand shakes as I grasp the mug and instead focus on some boring homework for history. Usually it`s semi interesting but today nope. 

I then attempt to erase all the annoying voices out of my head by answering them with the same excuse I always supply them with, it's just a _diet_ , it's just a _habit._  

 _That's all it is really._ ~~Except it`s really not, it`s so much more.~~

 


	2. Is this self destruct?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was fine, until it wasn`t. Stiles faints in class and Scott takes him home and everything should be okay but it isn't. The routine continues until somebody breaks it, the problem is Stiles doesn't want to break it and Scott`s getting suspicious and where the fuck even is the Sherriff?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow, thank you for all the kudos and subscriptions and hits and comments. It`s amazing I didn't think anyone would read and its quite overwhelming to find out two hundred of you have. So in this chapter, we will see Stiles eating disorder symptoms progress until he faints in the boys bathrooms. I know you maybe thinking this is moving too fast for a story but keep in mind that he`s had an undiagnosed eating disorder for around two years. Plus this isn't the chapter where everything gets exposed anyway. If you do like this chapter leave a comment ,subscription or a kudos. Or just read it, I hope you all have a fucking amazing day/night. One day I`ll stop swearing but that won`t be today

It was harder than usual leaving bed this morning. And not in the oh so relatable way because who wants to go to school. It was the it's so cold, I just want to stay in my cocoon of warmth. It’s the 25th of November and already the heating is on to full warmth, my dad`s going to kill me when he realises how much the heating bill costs and then add that to my medication but you know what dad I'm cutting down on food, so you won't have any expensive food bills this month. Although if I worded it like that I don't think it would make him any less angry. 

And do you know what brings me out of my adult money rant. My phone and the stupid, annoying ping sound it makes. Which I keep meaning to change but its either that or the stupid bird sound. 

Regretfully may I heavily add, I reach for the phone and notice I have text from Scott. Which reads: 

You were meant to pick me up five minutes ago. 

I check the clock and notice I've slept in. Fuck. I really need to stop doing this, why don't I ever set an alarm. Hurriedly I throw on a vest, then a t-shirt and then a hoodie and my pants obviously and some relatively warm socks for under my boots. I know that I'm wearing layers but fuck it, it`s cold okay? 

And without checking the mirror, or getting breakfast which I don’t really do anymore. I rush out the door and climb into my jeep. 

I get to Scott`s house in a record time of five minutes. Which is pretty damn impressive for me anyway. I stop the car and watch Scott as he opens the door and climbs in. 

"Why is it so warm in here" he asks as she shoves his bag in the back, like he does every damn morning. 

"It`s fucking freezing" I answer truthfully because it is and I don’t understand how Scott can wear revealing clothes with this draining coldness. 

"It`s really not Stiles" he replies his hands reaching for the heating symbol. 

I reach out with my left hand and try and ward off the attack. 

As you do, our hands make immediate contact and Scott flinches back for some reason. 

"Someone`s jumpy" I tease as I start the car back up. 

"Why the hell are you that cold. I could have mistaken you for a freezer" he questions. I look over and notice his confused puppy face. 

"I'm just cold that’s all" I say because it’s the truth I am cold. 

He shakes his head and backs down on the idea of turning the heat down. 

After five minutes on the empty roads because we`re late, I know okay, I should get out of bed earlier but does anyone really want to see Mr. Harris in the morning.  

I pull up outside school and lock the car. And disappear into hell or what you might call it high school

* * *

 

 

It was going fine, well maybe okay is a better term. I was in class, everything was okay. That’s the truth, well half of it anyway. It was the afternoon and we just had lunch, or rather _they_ just had lunch.  

Then everything went _fuzzy._

You can guess what happened next., it doesn't take a genius to work it out.

I fainted. I know okay, I should do it moderation but usually when I do it, not sex the other thing. It's fine, nothing well-bad happens and it almost always outweighs the negatives when you see the amount of weight you`ve lost. 

That’s not the point. 

I didn’t faint in class, I fainted in the toilets. Which I assure you is much better and yet I'm not sure, it was. Obviously, I lied because imagine me telling Scott that I make myself throw up so I can well, gain a twisted sense of control.

So, I was in the toilet because if I was going to faint I wasn’t going to have a crowd watching. I`m already a loser but I don’t want to be the sad kid who faints. 

Cut to now, with me opening my eyes blankly whilst staring up at Scott in the toilets as he must of followed me out here. 

"Stiles?" He pretty much shouts in my ear. 

The first thing I see, is two worried eyes. And the guilt hits. 

I`m such a fuck up. 

I then attempt to stand up for some stupid reason. Only to have two quite big hands pushing me back down. I close my eyes and open them again. Its better when they`re shut but apparently you can`t sleep all day, especially when you fainted. Well Scott`s determined I`m going to keep my eyes open anyway. 

It's just been hard to focus lately, harder than usual even with the Adderall. The Adderall of course it doesn’t cure everything, I'm still a talkative annoying person but less so, I guess. And yet even with the Adderall the focus issues are coming back, which as you can fucking imagine isn't great. 

"Drink this" he passes over a bottle of water and sits next to me in the cubicle, it's like we are acting out a shitty teen movie. Next, he`s going to tell me I need to get my head in the game. 

Shakily I uncap the bottle and lift it to my lips and take a very large swallow. Which is harder than it looks because the water keeps dribbling out of mouth because my hands won't stop shaking. 

"What the fuck is going on Stiles?" Scott asks anxiously his voice taking a much more serious stern tone than his usual puppy positive tone, if that even exists. 

When Scott starts to swear, shit has hit the fan let me tell you that. And another thing what even is the phrase, shit has hit the fan. Have you ever seen literal shit hit an actual fan, no which is why its complete bullshit and one more thing I need to keep a better handle on my ADHD. 

Anyway, the point was things-well got out of hand. 

"I don’t know. I just don`t know" I lie blankly. 

Because I do know. That’s the thing I know too much if that’s fucking possible. And well what`s happening if you can even count it as a situation, is personal okay? I can't say anything, it doesn't make sense and they won't understand. And everyone has too much happening and I can't- I won't add to it. 

"Are you sick?" Scott asks with what he thinks is logic but is probably naivety. 

As I'm not sick, I make myself sick. If that makes any sense, it's not a cold. It's just a fucking diet and that’s okay, alright. I just need to control it more. This can't happen again. 

Correction this won`t happen again. 

"Maybe I`m coming down with something" I reply quietly looking downwards at the annoying tiled floor. 

"Come on we are going to the nurse" Scott says determinedly. 

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no._

We are not going to the nurse. God, no. They`ll know, fuck. 

"No, I`m okay, see" I attempt to stand up only to fall straight back down "I`ll get up in a minute and then me and you Scotty can go back to class" I whisper dozily to him as I point to the floor like a stupid drunk. Although I do feel kind of drunk.

I`m aware okay, stop, I`m fucking irresponsible. I need to control myself in moderation but it`s fucking hard. 

Scott laughs aloud and raises an eyebrow. 

Really bitch we`re doing they eyebrow thing, now? 

"You just fainted Stiles, there's no fucking buts about it we are going to the nurse" he says angrily. 

"Can we call it passing out instead, sounds more masculine you know, I don`t faint, I just you know slept on the floor" I answer back try to quieten my mind but it's impossible. 

"Is it your medication, did you take too much Stiles, you know you can`t do that, not again" he looks at me his eyes filled with concern. 

"No, I didn`t do it again, okay?" I reassure well half-heartedly anyway. 

Then Scott`s strong hands are under my armpits and he`s pretty much hoisting me up, like I`m a fucking pathetic kid. 

"Have you lost weight?" He asks. 

Fuck.... 

"No" I answer honestly because it doesn’t feel like I`ve lost weight. 

_I don`t feel fat but I don’t feel skinny._

_And is it so bad to want to be skinny._

Luckily, he tosses that subject aside and soon we are walking- or more like Scott half carrying me really. We make it to the nurse`s office in like six minutes.   

I managed to persuade the nurse I was probably catching the bug going around school and that was the reason why I fainted. 

But I don`t know if Scott believed it. 

Anyway, soon I get the pass that I can get out of school and just as I`m walking out of the doors Scott follows. 

"What are you doing, you have class?" I ask. 

"How stupid do you think I am? He questions. 

And just as I'm about to open my mouth and answer he interrupts me. 

"That was a rhetorical question Stiles. You fainted and you think I`m going to let you drive home alone, what if you pass out behind the wheel. Does a car crash sound like fun?" He rambles on so much sometimes he could be the one with ADHD. 

"No, not really" I reply back blankly. 

And that’s really all I get to say before Scott`s hand is on my shoulder and he`s pretty much dragging me to the car. 

"You better not be contagious" he jokes as he helps me into the jeep. I mean does he really need to help me into the jeep. 

You faint once and suddenly you’re a toddler or something equivalent to an invalid. 

And that’s the last thing on my mind before I fall asleep in the jeep because everything is always better when you fall asleep. 

......

"Stiles wake up" a voice pierces through my dream. 

"Go away" I mumble back to the person who wants to ruin my sleep. 

"Come on Stiles wake up, we`re at your house" the voice answers back although right now, I`m pretty sure it`s Scott and not just an ominous annoying voice. 

I open my eyes and look upwards at peering Scott. 

"How are you feeling?" He questions. 

"Okay" I reply as I open the car door and reach for my bag. 

I climb out of the jeep carefully because I don’t need to make Scott any more suspicious than he already is. 

And even though I went to bed early yesterday and I have literally just woken up from sleeping in the car, I`m still fucking exhausted and it’s a different kind of tired. A tired that sets in your bones and _makes you want to see all of your bones_. 

I then try and find the keys in my bag because we do not keep the keys under a plant pot or a doormat. Hello sheriff son nice to meet you. Although who would fucking rob the Sheriff`s house you`d have to be nuts, it`s like asking to be arrested. 

Finally, I find the keys and open the door. 

I then proceed to walk over to the couch and throw myself on in it. 

"No falling asleep" Scott instructs as he sits down on the sofa. 

"What is this Guatemala bay? I`m sleepy" I reply. 

"You haven`t eaten all day and that’s probably why you fainted. I`m not stupid Stiles"  

"Never said you were" I say as I try and attempt the anxiety out of my stomach. 

Whoever compared anxiety to butterflies is fucking stupid. Butterflies are smooth elegant creature if you want to compare anxiety to something, compare it rhinos stamping on your stomach. 

As that is so much more correct than a butterfly or two. "What do you want then?" Scott asks as he walks into the kitchen. 

"Coffee and a blanket" I shout back because one I`m exhausted and two I`m also cold, although I`m always so fucking cold.  

"I meant to eat Stiles" He yells back with exasperation. 

"Whatever there is, just make it light my stomach is kind of upset" I reply. 

If I'm honest my stomach has been upset ever since I was thirteen and after I made myself throw up, upset seems like too small of a word to describe the anxious hunger that eats my stomach and makes me _terrified of food, of being full, of being out of control._

For once I obey Scott and instead of sleeping which let me tell you is a much better choice, I turn the game console on instead. Although it's not like I could sleep when I know I have to eat. 

But I can`t not eat because that would just cause suspicion, so how the fuck do I not eat. Why is the world so fucking confusing? It`s obvious what I`m going to have to do. 

I`ll just puke it up later and go on a run. Everything is fine ,so why don’t I feel fine. 

"Stiles I`ve finished" Scott yells into the living room. 

Oh, and another question, why the fuck is Scott being all mothering? 

I`d say he was being like my dad but my dad doesn’t come home all that often and he`s not usually even here for tea. Which is a plus, I guess. 

But ever since mom died it was like I lost two parents instead of one and I know it’s a fucking dramatic thing to say but sometimes the dramatic shit is the truth and in this situation, it is. 

"Stiles if you are asleep I swear to every single-" 

"Calm your boobs I'm coming" I walk to the kitchen and try my hardest to be calm because if I look at all anxious, my cover is fucked. I love how I keep making spy terminology. 

When did I become so frightened of food, I think as I look downwards at a plate filled with pasta and some kind of odd sauce. That smells okay but when did Scott turn into a chef that’s the real question here. 

I look across the table and see Scott`s already ripped into his. 

Shakily I pick up my fork and try to not think of the calories. 

Fuck in every half cup of pasta there's around 111 calories and I've got around three cups which is about 666 calories and that’s the devils fucking number, why the fuck am I eating this. And don’t even get me started on the sauce which must have oil in it. There's around 55 calories in 100 grams of sauce and I really need to find the off switch for my brain. 

"Are you not going to eat that since when did you lose your appetite?" Scott asks his eyes scanning my face. 

I lost my appetite when I found out I was guilty for the death of my mum and my dad started drinking and everything went to shit. 

But I don’t tell him that, of course I don’t. 

"Oh I`m hungry, just wondering if I should be worried that you poisoned the pasta, since when did you cook?" I ask as I pick up the spoon. 

And with the smallest spoonful of pasta I shakily rise it to my mouth. If I chew fifteen times then maybe I'll lose my appetite and I won't put on any weight. 

Why am I so terrified of putting on weight you ask? 

Well I don’t have anything else going for me. God, that sounds pathetic. My personality is shit, my looks are shit and controlling my weight is all I fucking have. And if I put on weight than- no I'm not even going to think of that. 

I just _really_ want to be skinny. 

I swallow another spoonful. 

"I can cook anyway Mom works nightshifts and you know how it is"  he answers. 

Yes, Scott I do know how it is. 

Anway after six more spoonful's I`ve finished. And my stomach is betraying me. But no, I have to control myself, that’s all I really have left is this. And how fucking sad is that? 

"Are you done? Dude you have hardly eaten anything do you think you need to go to the doctors or something. It isn't normal to faint, I should probably call your dad as well before I go?" 

"No, you really don’t need to call my dad, he`s well- he`s got a lot going on at work and I'm sure it's nothing, don’t worry Scotty I will be fine" I then proceed to turn the heater back on because like I've said about two thousand and fifteen times, its cold. 

Scott then gives me an observing look and nods his head. 

And with that I then fall asleep on the sofa. 

 

* * *

 

I wake up once more to a note on the table from Scott which reads; Have to get home, if you feel any worse call me, there`s some soup in the fridge and I`ll call you in an hour or so- Scott. 

Why is Scott so damn caring? When is he going to learn I`m just a worthless _un_ -skinny pathetic person. 

I open the fridge and true to the note there is soup in the fridge, not that I`m going to eat it. 

I can`t eat it. No, I don’t want to eat it. 

And with that thought I head upstairs to the bathroom and lock the door. 

I crouch next to the toilet and swing the seat upwards, I close my eyes and breathe out. And then I lean forwards and stick the fingers down my throat till I reach the bobbly bit at the back and with a push or two, I`m puking up every last bit of the pasta. 

 _Until I`m empty, until I`ll be skinny._  

I carry on puking, until the vomit turns to blood and I know I should stop. You aren't meant to bleed when you vomit, right? 

Don’t answer that, the answer is obvious. I flush away the evidence and use the toilet to pull myself up. And I feel better, well mentally definitely not physically. 

I wash my hands and remove the blood, stomach acid and other kind of gross shit from my fingers. And then I pull out the scale and weigh myself, I better of fucking lost weight at this rate I will need to go for another run. 

**115 pounds.**

Alright that`s less than yesterday, three pounds that’s good. 

So, I ignore the dizziness and make a cup of coffee instead. 

Besides I'm only five pounds away from my goal weight.  And then everything will be fine, I can eat more and I won`t do the puking thing as much and I'll be skinnier and happier. 

That’s the only thing stopping me from destructing, so why does It feel like I`ve already hit self- destruct. 

 

 


	3. Carefully concealed masks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD, YES I AM BACK. I'm honestly so sorry, I've left this for nearly six months and I don't even know why. This is a story I write when I'm having trouble with myself so I sort of well blurt it in the voice of Stiles, who I actually relate to a lot. In this chapter we see Stiles make friends with Lydia. And Scott is suspicious, the sheriff as always is non-existent. And his habits have gotten worse. Don't read this if it triggers you, it's not worth it and I'm not promoting any eating disorders because believe me when I tell you they are so fucking ugly. Anyway if you liked it leave a comment, bookmark or subscribe.
> 
> Have a lovely day people of the earth and I'll try and update sooner! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sticks & Stones never broke my bones but words made me starve myself until you could see all of them" - the princess saves herself in this one , by Amanda Lovelace

After the whole fainting incident or sleeping on the toilet floor incident, whatever you'd like to call it. I woke up a little, realised I was hiding the whole habit not well enough. And the last thing I want is for my Dad to find out and for Scott to grow even more suspicious. Not that there's anything to be suspicious about but I hate it when people worry.

Scott keeps giving me these odd observing looks and sometimes he watches what I'm eating at lunch. And I can't okay, I can't have him knowing because if he knows then everything falls and _there's no rope for me to climb back up_. But that's not going to happen because nothing's wrong. And it's not bad that I've started eating at lunch and then puking it up in the bathroom later, right? It's still a habit, I just get stressed and at least this way I'm kind of eating. ~~Keep telling yourself that.~~

Today started normally, I woke up earlier than usual and for some stupid reason exercised. I didn't used to exercise as much as I do now but the scales well- they aren't moving quick enough and I have to eat lunch to keep the pretence and there is so much damn stress, you know and when I'm empty it's as if I can _breathe_. So, I do 50 of each, which include press ups, crunches, squats, burpees, even mild jogging, just any silly exercise you can get off tumblr that helps you lose weight, even though you know it won't really work.

After that shameful moment , comes one of my least favourite parts of the day except from meal times ,of course. It's  showering, I weigh myself before hand and today I'm 110. And suddenly it's all worth it, all the empty stomachs and dinners in toilets and napkins wrapped tightly then pressed into the bottoms of trash cans. It's worth it but it isn't enough and as I step into the shower, trying to hide the repulsion I feel for my body ,I attempt to rid my self of them by lathering myself in some fruity shower gel, I try my hardest not to look at my body but I don't think trying ever quite worked for me.

It's hard to explain. I don't think I'm fat but I don't think I'm skinny, I just feel fat and I wish the fat that gripped my hips was _bone_. It's not right but there is something so intoxicating about bones, about being able to see your ribs and feeling small and delicate, about people lifting you up and thinking you're light  ,about being called the skinny friend. It's  hard , but that's not the reason I well do it but maybe it holds its worth,for me it's control. The power of being empty when you feel powerless it's replacing pain with emptiness, it's growing tired of that voice in your head that says you _aren't good enough_ , that you will _never_ be good enough but it doesn't matter right? because it's not that big off an issue, it's a habit. A habit at most and maybe a tiny weeny issue but even then it dulls in comparison into what others are going through.

I turn the shower off after five minutes and with a quick towel dry I walk into my room and pick out my clothes, as I try my hardest not to throw myself back into the warmness  of blankets. I pick out a vest to go under my top and a hoodie and then some baggy jeans because skinny jeans just increase my insecurities and I've got enough of those to fill a lake. I look fondly at my bed wishing I could just stay there instead of having to go outside where it's so cold but I can't nope because Scott needs a lift and Dad has to go to work and I have to be okay even when the cold starts to override me. And it's like no one feels the cold, it's like it's resided in my bones and no amount of clothes will ever be able to make me feel warm.

I slip out of the house discarding breakfast like usual and not even checking if my dads home because he never is, especially at this time.I open the jeep and turn the heating on full blast and I wish right now I had five blankets and that they were all heated, ooh and a puppy and fuck. I didn't take my adderall, great thank you ADHD. I start driving to Scott's as I try my hardest to concentrate on the road and not my tapping fingers and constant mind. Finally I arrive and annoyingly it's slower than usual today, I'm never going to beat my record again.

Scott's bouncing outside and my God is he a puppy. His puppy eyes could persuade Lucifer to be his friend, okay maybe that ones a little to far but I haven't taken my aderall, okay?

He literally runs to the car.

"Hey Stiles, did you hear that Allison is...." After that point I stop listening. Okay I'm not being rude but I don't need to hear the fact that Alllison smiled at him yesterday , look I'm proud but the fatigue and ADHD make it hard to concentrate and I have stomach pains and I'm unsure if it's hunger or skipping my medication.

"Stiles, Are you even listening? Do you ever take your aderall?" He questions, his eyes glancing over to my face.

"I forgot it's not a big deal" I reply back my eyes looking forwards and thankfully  they aren't oddly twitching.

 "It is, you know when you don't take it you don't come of it well and all the side effects it brings. And mom has told me all the issues that happen when you come of it and you need your aderall. I won't always have a Mountain Dew in my bag, you know I should literally start carrying around aderall in my bag and why is it so warm in this car, don't tell me you're cold again. It's barely even winter" He rambles on his eyes flaring with indignation and I sigh loudly unable to think of the words that will excuse my forgetfulness and the coldness that fills my stomach instead of food.

"But the real question is do you have a Mountain Dew in your bag?" I smirk and look at his amused puppy face and surely enough ,a minute later he's passing a Mountain Dew out of his bag.

"I swear I don't even know how I always have one in my bag, it's probably because I know what you're like Stiles" He says raising his eyebrows.

"Well I still carry your inhaler buddy" I answer and it's true I still do carry it even though he hasn't an attack in years because you never know when one might flare up and I don't ever really need to see Scott hooked up to nebuliser again, no thank you.

A small smile appears on his face and soon enough we arrive at the gates of hell, high school what more can I say, I stop the car and we both rush out because I think we're late. I should check my phone but that would prolong time right now and I know where my thoughts are going so remorsefully ,I take  a swig off my Mountain Dew as I repeat over and over in my head that it's okay I can puke it back up later but somehow I feel like if I don't drink it I'm  hurting Scott , like I'm breaking our tradition. And it doesn't make sense but most of the things in life that matter hardly ever make sense. Plus it's the morning so fuck logic.I swear no one is smart at eight o clock if you're a teenager, you're usually just dead inside and running on coffee, or is that just me. Probably just me, I always did end up being the _outcast_.

I end up being in math ,which let me tell you isn't a favourite of mine, sure sometimes it's okay because there's a sense of control, something is always right and there's a definite answer, with no added bullshit but it's also dull and hard. And Lydia Martin sits in front, not that she probably notices I sit behind her, I don't even know if I have crush on her anymore plus I mean her boyfriend Jackson scares the absolute shit out of me, so there's also that. I place my head on the desk and try my hardest not to fall asleep or worse faint but I won't faint because I'm eating, sure I might not be digesting it half the time but does that even matter. I begrudgingly raise my head and try on focus on trigonometry, the bane of pretty much everyone's existence. And the numbers start blending together and my hand for some stupid reason is shaking but that's okay because I'm _empty_ , except from that stupid energy drink but I probably need more of that because I'm sure I have a low blood sugar. And I really don't need a low blood sugar right now,

Regretfully may I so heavily add, I grab the Mountain Dew out of my bag and take careful sips of the Mountain Dew ,until the world stops tilting on its side. And then comes the moment, that I don't thing I'll forget in a while. I drop my pen and you're probably thinking oh that's not so bad but it is trust me because it's under Lydia Marten's chair and I do not currently have then energy to pick it up because my head feels likes I've spun around a quadruple times a and I'm so not fainting in front of my math class.

And for some stupid reason she notices. It knocks her out of her super smart demeanour and she looks below and notices the pen and then for some stupid reason she looks behind and notices my face and my hand without a pen and she picks it up.

She picks it up. And I think it's at that specific point where I die inside and I can feel my insides starting to rot.

She passes it over to me and she's smiling at me, at Stiles fricking  Stilinski.

"Have you done question four?" she asks her voice full of confidence.

And I think at that moment my heart stopped because Lydia Marten is talking me and she doesn't talk to me , hell she doesn't acknowledge my existence. I'm  just that annoying kid that talks too much, also known as the kid that can't sit still.

I gawp and I'm kind of ashamed about it. In response she does one of those movie hair flips and smiles back.

"I do know who you are Stiles" She says her eyes focused readily on mine and I try and cover up my shaking hands because I don't want one of my first conversations with Lydia to be about that, hell I don't want to ever have a conversations without anyone about that, I mean I can't even have it with Scott and Scott well he's the most consistent person in my life; I mean hello have you met my dad the sheriff, who's never home and has a steadily growing alcohol issue.

Fuck ADHD I think as I take another swig of Mountain Dew. She looks on curiously as I begin to tap my fingers, to the beat of death from the anxiety I'm feeling right now and it's a lot trust me.

"Er Question 4 you have to use the sine rule" I reply pointing towards the working in my book and she rolls her eyes because no doubt she already knows that I mean she's genius smart, I suppose it's just sad that she dates Jackson. And it's not jealously that's not why I disagree with her relationship even though it isn't my business, it's that she's too good for Jackson and well Jackson he's a dick and bully, although he is kind of hot. No I did not say that I'm going to erase that horrid thought from my mind and promptly bleach it.

After that flaw, or significant error in judgement, I look back up at Lydia's weirdly worried face and my heart drops and what is it what my heart today. Why is it beating so fast?

"Why are your hands shaking?" She asks with interest as she folds her arms. My head comes up blank because at that moment of time I forgot to hide my shaking hands because I was debating her relationship.

"Why did you ask me if I did question 4 ,when you already knew the answer" I reply and this well could result in her publicly humiliating me because once more I will reiterate she's Lydia, I'm Stiles. She's _beautiful_ I'm not, she has self control I'm well- I'm working on it. Anyway my habit isn't the point, it's my smartass personality.

In my surprise she laughs, yes she actually laughs, I nearly pinch myself just to make sure I'm not in an alternate reality.

"I like you ,we are going to be friends" She says back her voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. Although I don't know why you'd want to argue back with her.

"Sure" I answer with a voice probably filled with fear because I mean Lydia wants to be friends with me and how the hell am I going to explain to Scott that Lydia wants to be friends with me. Me, pathetic old Stiles.

After that announcement, Lydia plans a shopping trip and I don't know if she's buying clothes herself all I know is apparently what I'm wearing needs an upgrade and to be honest she's not right but now a days it's much more a matter of comfort and being warm than dressing nicely besides don't you actually have to be hot to dress nicely and most days I feel fat and ugly so I don't exactly want to be dressing nicely, I want to hide instead and sink into the world, not stand out.

Soon enough the bell rings and by the end of a class it's almost as if my life has changed. I have Lydia's number and I'm going shopping with her on Saturday and I've learnt so many new things about how to style my hair and thankfully she didn't bring anything up  about the Mountain Dew or the fact I clearly was having troubling focusing.

It just so happens I have Mr Harris next, which as you can imagine is shit because I mean the dude hates me and what did I ever do, 'lived 'my brain utters cynically.

Somehow and I don't have the answer to this, I get out of his class without a detention, which I'm going to be honest and say that hasn't happened in a while, dude must be on some hardcore drugs or something.

And then I realise what time it is ,lunch time. The worst possible time of day ,I walk into the canteen and spot Scott's  face and he's sitting next to Issac today and he's eating some weird calorie packed gushing burger that I don't think I could eat a bite out of without throwing up. As I go up to the queue to collect some food because I feel Scott's eyes burning into my back and I'm trying to keep up the pretence of everything being okay. ~~When everything is so far away from being okay.~~

I end up running into Lydia, thankfully not literally ,she says hi and seems to laugh at my small lunch or that's what she calls it ,as she grabs herself a plate of food that is pumped full of calories but she doesn't seem to care and she's Lydia Marten .I mean she does what she wants and eats whatever the hell she what's as she's off sitting with her boyfriend and some other football players and Scott's crush Allison. I look over to where Scott is sat and I see his face covered in disbelief at mine and Lydia's  conversation, to which I smirk at and then he points back at the food to make sure I grab something and my stomach drops whist simultaneously growling because I'm hungry but I can't. I can't eat because that would ruin everything. _And I've come so far._

I grab an odd looking salad that unfortunately has chicken in but they all have some weird form of eat in any way and I also grab an apple with a bunch of napkins ,so I can throw most of it away when nobody is looking and I hope to god that Scott won't make a rabbit food joke because I can't right now stomach something full of calories.

'You don't have to stomach it if you throw it up' my brain reminds me. To which I ignore as I sit down at the table and wait for Scott to attacks me with his questions.

"What was that?" Scott asks to which Issac nods along to in disbelief.

"What?" I question innocently as I twirl the fork in my hand.

"You know what, your conversation with Lydia, who you've been crushed on since first grade" He answers back as he presses the other bit of his burger into his mouth and it's quite revolting to be honest. I'm just glad I don't have anything in my stomach.

"Okay, it's weird but in math I was being all clumsy and I'd dropped my pen and somehow Lydia picked it up ,which then started a conversation and I must of said something she liked because soon enough she says we are going to be friends and now dude I have her phone number and we are going shopping on Saturday because I need to get a better sense of style" I ramble on as I put the dressing on the side of the salad because I really don't need all those extra calories.

They don't say anything, either of them. Scott looks shocked ,probably more shocked than I was when he told me Derek was gay. But at the time I really did think he was asexual.

"What? Are we talking about the same Lydia, the one you've been crushing on since like first grade, the one you have never talked to without her ignoring you" Scott asks and I take his shock as the perfect moment to empty some of my food into the napkin.

"Yes I know," I reply with wide eyes and then Scott's eyes fill with a look only one person can give him, Allison.

Issac takes a little more longer to reply and then he smirks and hi fives me. "Took you a while" he comments as he stuffs fries in his mouth.

"I don't really like her that much anymore, if this happened to me in middle school, I'd faint" I answer truthfully, I probably would aswell.

"Wait, if you're friends with Lydia than you can you know drops some hints about how awesome me and Allison would be together dude" he spirals on and he has got a point and me and Lydia aren't going to happen , I don't like her anymore and besides I'm not her type. But Scott and Allison, they're something and I have always wanted to play wingman. We tried it in middle school but it's quite fair to say we failed and I think I made someone cry. And it wasn't just my personality this time.

"Oh that reminds me my mom's on a night  shift tonight, so sleepover at mine?" He asks and I really don't know how he got from talking about his crush ,his love ,to a sleepover at his house. Although me and Soctt haven't had a sleepover in a while ,the last time he came back to mine was after the incident which I'm so not going to name.

"Sure, Just have to leave a note out for Dad " I answer and then it hits me. If I go I have to eat , there's no escaping I can't purge at Scott's house. Right? No, definitely not but Scott's a puppy and puppies like they're food and well I suppose I used to like food.

And it's not that I used to dislike or even hate food, I used to love it and I had a deep thing going with curly fries. And then shit happened and _I made myself hate food_ , I made _jealously_ into _loathing_ and right now I don't know what's better.

At my sudden pondering of food, Scott's eyes meet mine and  it's almost like Scott can read my mind because his eyes land on my plate, my barely touched salad and unused dressing. Startled, I picked up a fork and place a cube of pepper in my mouth and then slowly that turns into more mouthfuls of salad as I leave the chicken to last and try and hide bits of food into places ,where you can't really see it.

 _He stops looking. I stop eating_  ,and Issac well he and Scott are having an enthusiastic conversation about their favourite flavours of ice cream, yes you heard me correctly. Ice cream for me is touchy, obviously it's full of calories so I don't eat it but when I do eat it, it comes up the quickest that and chocolate.

I don't add in my comment for well obvious reasons but also because I struggle to talk whilst eating, my head is full of voices, full of shame and guilt and temptation. And I can't concentrate on anything else than what I'm doing wrong, than what I'm eating and what I trying my hardest not to digest.

Minutes later and the bell goes, I quickly inform Scott of my massive need to go the toilet and it's not a lie, I need the toilet but I need it so I can be empty, so I can be empty of food, of guilt and so I can feel things.

I walk into the the bathroom dispensing the napkin in the trash at the same time, as I try and ignore my heart racing as I glance around and it's empty since everybody is at lessons. And here comes the disgusting bit, I scratch the back of my throat with my finger and it doesn't work the first time. But then again it hardly works the first time, unless I've eaten something utterly digusting and then my stomach can't deal with the fat, so it comes straight back up.

I stick two fingers down my throat and like a flood it arrives, my hands grip the toilet harshly as the stomach acid and bits salad and Mountain Dew drip from my mouth. After everything has come up, I rest my head against the toilet and try to not look up because then it seems as if the world is going to crash into you.

And I'm tired of seeing no black. Of seeing darkness.

My heart for once pounds with something other than anxiety and my stomach feels odd but empty. After two minutes the spots disappear form my vision and although my hands and limbs are still shaky I don't feel like I'm going to collide with the Earth.

That's the thing about purging, it's good to feel empty but the sickliness you feel after you have just purged is inexplicable .And maybe that's a good thing, the hardest things in life are the ones you can't find the words for.

I flush the toilet, ignoring the spot of blood that is starting to appear now a days and I walk out of the toilets and into the next class I have which is English, where I sit next to Scott. And of course, Scott's  going to be suspicious but I'll pretend I fell over somewhere, the one sad perk of being clumsy is that it's an awesome excuse for being late.

I rush into class and ignore the teachers clear look of disdain and as I take my seat next to Scott I know it's going to be a long afternoon. I just need to try and not crash into the earth.


	4. Panic attacks and the granola bar from hell...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting worse, Scott is getting protective (like seriously protective) and Stiles is beginning to crash and the signs are starting to show. And breathing becomes harder and the sheriff is still absent, I mean like seriously? where is he at. And Scott turns into a mothering hen, did I already say that. Oh and pizza. That's key..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I`m back, let me tell you something, exams are fucking stressful which is why the chapter is quite emotional, also because lots of lovely food issues are flying my way, so I will as always deflect my horrible bollocky feelings on to poor Stiles. Originally, I set the story as a Sterek but honestly I see a lot of flaws with in that ship, I`m much more into Scott and Stiles but friendships not a relationship between them, I just want a cute brother helping brother kind of story and I need to set Allison and Scott up, its annoying me. Okay lastly, thanks for the kudos and I want to put a huge trigger warning! for this chapter up because if you have any ED`s or lets say a complicated relationship with food or self esteem issues or anxiety (as there is a panic attack) please don't read, don't trigger your self, you are so much more than that, drink a cup of green tea, mediate, become a hippie, just try not to fall into old habits. Philsophical talk over, I hope you like the chapter and leave a comment if you doooo X

The afternoon seemed to drone on, at one point I shut my eyes and what felt like half an hour was in fact a minute, that's physics for you. But this time I tried okay and it still didn't make sense, the stupid electromagnetic questions blurred into one and everything felt blurry and sounds became rings and it hit me. _I need to eat._ Because today of all days I cannot faint, not when I'm going to Scott`s whose mum by the way is a nurse. Which is like asking for it.

I just have to ride through the dizziness because it isn't that bad and the thicker hair that's started to grow on my arms isn't that bad and neither is my fast heartbeat that feels as if its about to jump out my chest and create a new life of its own. Its temporary, its all just temporary. I rest my head on the freezing desk and I don't think you understand the will power I had to have in that moment not to fall asleep. That's all I need to do, just don't fall asleep or faint, that would probably be much worse.

Fuck me. Oh wait, still a virgin.

Turns out I don't have that willpower. I fell asleep and the ringing of the bell along with the nudge in the side woke up me, until I was eye to eye with the teacher. And today of all days , I can`t cope with a lecture. So, hastily I walk away, I know such a rebel move, or more like a I really can`t explain to you right now how I'm feeling because I feel as if I will explode into a sobbing mess. And I can almost feel it about to happen.

The panic attack and it can`t happen because Scott, oh my god Scott. And then my heart beat seems to burst at that, so I keep walking faster and faster because I need to get away from school, I need to get away from my head because its as if I'm constantly being pulled two ways. And one way is screaming ` _eat, what are you doing?_ `, whilst the other is yelling `don't let everything fade away, stay in control, don't lose control, don't let everything you have worked so hard for become nothing, thin, thin ,thin, control, thin`. It doesn't end, and I'm so tired of being pulled both ways and I don't know where to go but the voice is telling me to become nothing, to stay in control and that voice, well it always seems to win. Because its so much easier to self destruct, to burn to the ground than admit that you`re falling, that your head is the enemy and you don't have a weapon to defend yourself with

At least when you`re falling nobody knows you`re hurt until you crash to the ground. Nobody is scared of falling, you`re scared of landing because at that moment, everyone knows you have collided with the earth. And that in itself is terrifying because you have to cope with the aftermath.

Blur. Fade. Ringing, constant ringing. Why does everything feel so loud all the footsteps and glimpses of conversations. Why can`t everything be quiet?

It`s got to be okay because I'm nearly out, I'm nearly out of the school doors and I'm so close to my jeep and then I`m quietly going to have a panic attack and Scott can just forget about what's happening, he`s probably forgotten. It`s insignificant. Hell I`m insignificant.

I`m out. And this is the moment where I should take a deep breath but I can`t, it feels like something is weighing down my lungs and everything feels so heavy and I'm walking so fast because I can`t fall, I can`t fall.

Falling is for the weak.

As soon as I pull the jeep door open, I collapse into a heap onto the drivers seat and air seems like a foreign thought. Because nothing is happening and I can`t breathe, oh my god why can`t I breathe? I must be dying because everything seems so off colour, my heart is being too fast and I'm not breathing oh god why can`t I breathe.

It`s just a panic attack, right?

Breathe. God damnit why can`t I breathe. I`m such a pathetic, waste of absolute-

"Hey Stiles, Stiles?" A voice pierces through a thick kind of haze and it`s Scott and oh holy fucking shit, why is Scott here. God must surely hate me, did I piss of Zeus, no I probably pissed of Hades knowing me.

Breathe.

"In, out" He keeps repeating a loud to me but its impossible because my lungs aren't working and my head is repeating the same word over and over again, `control`.

I can`t. I can`t control it.

I shake my head, and I feel it loll slightly to the side and I'm dying, I must be dying because this is what dying feels like, maybe I`ll get to see my mom.

"I can`t bre-eathe" I stutter and I don't know how I find the air to speak because it feels like the air has been sucked out of the world.

"You can. Its a panic attack, you`re okay, just breathe okay? Inhale. Exhale" Scott comforts and I feel his eyes worriedly looking at me but right now my head is somewhere else and everything he's saying sounds odd ,as if it ringing off the walls.

"Can`t" I gasp, "you can trust me, okay? just follow me, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale" a hand appears over mine, slowly drawing patterns on to my palm.

"Just focus on me and my hand, okay? Keep breathing, inhale, exhale, you`re not dying, its just a panic attack" he soothes, his hand keeps drawing over mine and I think its working. I try to ignore the big fat beads of tears falling down my cheeks and the way Scott has rested my head against his chest.

I`m so weak. What is wrong with me?

I gasp, my breaths coming out wheezy and rattled and it sounds bad, what if its not over, oh god what if I am dying?

"You`re okay. Trust me, inhale and exhale" Scott breathes deeply in and five seconds out and I pathetically try and mimic but it hurts.

Fucking anxiety.

I breathe in, and out. Repeat. Repeat, and everything seems okay, the world comes back to colour and can I breathe, I still feel as weak as a new-born kitten but that's alright.

I push the key into the engine and slowly press down on the peddle only for Scott`s hand to stop me.

"What are you doing?" he asks his eyes leaking with confusion, as he looks me up and down as if he's checking some internal checklist.

"Driving dude" I inform and weakly try and push his hand away.

He swears quietly under his breathe and looks at me with indignation.

"No. Stiles you`re not driving you have just had a panic attack and you can barely hold your head up, come on Stiles, give me the keys, I`ll let you nap and I`ll put the heater on" And with the persuasion of warmth and sleep, I pass the car keys over to Scott.

Who looks way too relieved. "Better not be a scratch" I say sleepily, as I open the car door and the wooziness hits me and thankfully Scott is watching me as I stumble over to the car door and Scott just jumps into the driving seat without even getting out.

Smart move, damn I can be stupid.

"God Stiles. Are you okay?" He questions worriedly, his hands turning on the beautiful heater as he starts up the car. Where would I be without that heater? Hypothermic probably.

"Yes, just peachy. I`m gonna sleep" I say and after that everything blurs out in the blissful haze of sleep and warmth. And oddly enough I feel safe.

Although isn't it obvious why I feel safe. Scott.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of something dropping to the floor. And thankfully it isn't me this time.

I roll over onto a soft surface and confusion hits me. I swear I fell asleep in my jeep and no offence to the jeep but it isn't comfortable and I can`t lie down.

I peek one eye half open and see Scott`s worried face and it reminds of last time this happened. But that was fainting this was just a panic attack. A stupid panic attack, why did I have to do in front of Scott.

He probably thinks I'm crazy. Maybe he`s right, maybe I'm becoming my mom.

"Stiles, you okay?" He whispers, as he jumps next to me on the bed.

"Yeah, don`t worry about silly old Stiles" I reply back as I fully open my eyes and sit back on the bed. And then it hits me, he would of had to carry me inside. How else did I end up in his bed? Oh fucking hell. He carried me. He knows how disgusting I am, he knows how chubby my stomach is.

Stupid. Pathetic. Worthless. Chubby. Disgusti- "Stiles?" Scotts voice rings around the room and soon a granola bar is being stuffed into my hands and I can see the Mountain dew behind him.

I really hope he doesn't know. But theres this voice in the back of my head screaming what is there to know about, theres nothing wrong.

Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect but me and my head and my chubby stomach, and the hipbones I can never see, don't even get me started on the ribs that are barely there and-

I'm stopping there. Because as I said everything is awesome.

"What? Sorry for all that stupid stuff in the car" I tell him and hope he doesn't see how my hands shake like someone who has Parkinson's. I`m fine.

His face falls a bit as does my heart.

"No. Stiles don't be sorry. Just eat the granola bar your blood sugar must be low and my mum says that panic attacks leave you exhausted, so that's why I let you sleep" He passes over the granola bar, his eyes staring at the shakes too much for it to be a glance.

"Stiles. What`s up?" He asks his voice stumbling slightly over his worry.

"Nothing. Sorry for ruining tonight with my chubby ass" I reply and then my heart stops because that wasn't meant to come out. I`ve just got to hope he doesn't think about it.

He sighs deeply, a frown appears on his face. And now I feel awful because I made the happiest guy I know sad. Way to go Stiles.

"You haven't ruined anything. And Stiles you aren't chubby. Tell me you know that, please?, because I carried you up here and I'm not the strongest dude but I didn't break a sweat. And I don't quite know what to think about that and Stiles I thought I told you to eat the granola bar" He takes the granola bar off me and my mind is flushed with relief. Because I don't have to eat...

Unfortunately, that's not the case as I realise what he`s doing, opening it and passing it back to me. 

"I could of opened it" I say to him. As I try and ignore his preach over me not being `chubby` because these days I can`t tell. I feel fat. I know I'm not fat but I feel it, constantly and well I'm not skinny, far from it. Scott well he must be bullshitting, he`s a kind person so that`s probably it.

And when did he turn into a mothering, protective hen.

He just rolls his eyes in response, like its obvious. It`s not because I don't get it.

"Eat it," He says bluntly and unscrews the bottle of Mountain Dew and begins to gulp about a quarter of it down.

I raise the granola bar to my mouth and I hope it`s just oats and not oats and honey or chocolate chip shit. I bite the smallest piece off and count to ten until I swallow it. Scott looks relieved but the worry still seeps into his face. I carry on repeating the routine of counting and trying to blur out the voice that tells me how fat I am, how pathetic I am. How out of fucking control I am. How I'm ruining everything I tried so fucking hard for.

And then not even a minute later the bottle of Mountain Dew is being passed to me and I can`t find it in me to protest because at this moment in time I'm not strong even to protest and to be perfectly honest Scott`s worrying face makes me feel like a crap person. I swig it back and gulp it down, I try to forget the too acidic sweet taste.

Sugar well sugar isn't allowed usually. It makes you put on weight, it leaves you out of control.

I hand back the bottle and the worry seems to have faded.

"You scared me," He says quietly as he pulls the comforter over himself and his body heat seeps into mine. And its nice.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen, everything was too quick Scotty, and it was too much, you know" I tell him quietly, as if that will help me disguise the truth.

Facades are key.

"I get it. I`m always here Stiles, come on, I have ordered pizza and you can pick the first film" He pleads, with a smile on his face.

And thinks are okay. For now.

At least I hope so. But I don't want to think about the calories in pizza and how bloated it will make me and I can`t throw up at Scott`s house.  I could. I`d just have to be quiet about it.

"So what film are we watching?" He asks, as he flicks through Netflix.

I replicate his puppy eyes as much as I can as I whisper "Starwars"

He snorts loudly, like he was expecting it. And then the doorbell rings and he's rushing down the stairs and my heart beat is increasing. Because I can`t eat pizza and it definitely isn't under 500 calories.

I look downwards noticing the crumbled not even half eaten granola bar in my hand, I look around for my school bag. And notice it lying next to the bed on the floor. I open it up, and place the bar in the back pocket. It`s not weird, I'm just not hungry and at least this way Scott won`t be worried and I well, won`t be bloated and fat. I lean back against the pillows as if they could just slowly suffocate all my worries about food away.

To be honest I think about food way too much. How good it used to taste and what I would eat if I could eat anything regardless of calories, I keep having dreams where I stuff my face full of food and I wake up with panic, thinking I consumed all of it. I think that's what stops me, from binging, from losing control. From being fat.

God, I'm so fucked up in the head. And then Scott is rushing back up stairs balancing two pizza boxes and a glass of water.

"So, Starwars?" I question and try and cover up my snigger.

He looks at me with puppy eyes and I know that tonight isn't the night, we are going to watch it.

He flicks through all the films until he presses on some chick flick and looks at me as if what are you going to say about it?

He presses play, and in case you didn't know Scott has a secret love for romantic comedies. And well to be perfectly honest I don't mind them either, but I roll my eyes at him and he just passes over the pizza box.

I open it up, the first thing that hits me is the smell of grease, the way it seems to pour down the pizza and at least Scott got me a pepperoni and not some stupid meat feast disaster.

"Hey where is my drink?" I ask, as I look over at Scott sipping on water. The more water I drink, the more full I am and the less I eat, the less I weigh. 

He passes me the Mountain Dew from earlier. 

"You`re gonna drink all of that. Okay, you hear me? Because I'm worried Stiles, something isn't right with you, you know I'm here right. Look you can tell me what's wrong I won`t tell anyone" He sighs as he twiddles with his fingers.

Fuck. Nothing is wrong. I`m fine, ~~its not like I'm out of control.~~ "Nothing is wrong. I'm sorry for making you worry" I reply back.

God, when did everything become so confusing. The thing with Scott is he isn't going to forget and when Scott gets worried, he becomes a little protective, okay a lot protective. He can`t know. About any of this.

I gulp the Mountain Dew down and try and concentrate on Julia Roberts spilling her heart out to Hugh Grant.

"Stiles come on, eat your pizza" He reminds me.

Begrudingly may I very, very heavily add I pick up the slice of pizza. I try not to look at the grease that slides down my hands and I pick off most of the cheese. Because cheese isn't good for you, makes you fat, as does fucking pizza. I look back up at the film, my eyes glance over to Scott who seems to be in staring match with my food. Sometimes I wish he didn't care so much because the thing about caring is that you get hurt, and I'm okay with hurting myself but I will never ever let myself hurt Scott he`s been through enough shit already.

I offer him some pizza and he snorts again, "No Stiles just eat. Are you sick or something?" He questions as he shoves a slice of folded slice of pizza in his mouth. 

I`m not sick. I`m fine. I`m in control.

But as the bite of pizza passes my lips, I don't feel as in control as I did a second ago.

"No. Just tired that's all" I inform him as I scrape off the tomato bits of the bread and the pepperoni because its all fattening.

I bring the slice up to my mouth again and take the smallest of bites

I try and forget the eyes following my movements.

And the nausea threatens to raise its voice, after five or so bites. I place the slice of pizza down, and it kind of hits me then. That this isn't normal that six bites of pizza should not make me want to throw up. But and I'm not quite sure how, throwing up became routine. I just learnt to ignore the scars on my knuckles and the blood in the toilet, I learnt to block out the dizziness because as long as I'm not in the shower everything is okay.

Everything is okay. It`s got to be. ~~But its not because everything is so far from okay and I need to throw up but Scott`s here and he will know...~~

I place the pizza box on the bedside table and pull the blankets around me because this room is so cold, I try and sleep off the nausea because otherwise I'm afraid I`ll do it. And he will know and everything will crumble to shit. With that fucking thought I close my eyes and try to forget the tear falling down my cheek and the fullness of my stomach that threatens to ruin my life.

 


End file.
